


Every Piece of You Makes Me Whole

by chelliebean3



Category: Glee RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Infidelity, Light Bondage, M/M, Marking, Oral Sex, References to Chris/Will, Rimming, minor breathplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-10
Updated: 2014-03-10
Packaged: 2018-01-15 06:53:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1295563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chelliebean3/pseuds/chelliebean3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris needs something that only Darren can give to him, and what was supposed to be a friendly movie night turns a little more…intense.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Every Piece of You Makes Me Whole

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the song “Fix You” by Vita Chambers.

Chris can’t say for certain when it started. All he knows is that it’s been building for weeks, maybe months, and it’s gotten to the point where he can’t ignore it any longer.

Nothing’s helping. Not writing, not reading, not Downton Abbey marathons. Even wearing the cuff isn’t grounding him the same way it used to. It’s just not enough anymore. He can’t relax; he’s irritable and snapping at everyone. This morning he even snarked at Brian, who wouldn’t stop weaving in between his legs as Chris was trying to fill up his water dish. Brian had stared up at him haughtily for a moment before strutting out of the kitchen, tail high in the air and leaving his still full food dish behind. (Chris apologized later with a couple treats and a nice long ear scratch, and added an extra scoop of food to his dinner for good measure).

This isn’t the first time he’s been in this place, gotten to the point where he feels _helpless_ with how much it feels like something’s missing, but it’s the first time since he’s known exactly what he needs. Somehow the knowledge makes it worse.

He could ask for it. He knows he could. It wouldn’t even have to be a big deal; Chris could just break out his newest set of handcuffs (used only twice months ago), say he sleep-bought them and jokingly suggest spicing up their rather vanilla sex life. It would be so _easy_ to ask.

Except he can’t, because despite the fact that Chris has moved on with someone else, Darren is still the only one that has a claim on this part of him. Ever since Chris had his first taste of what he needs– that hot September afternoon when Darren had crowded him up against the inside of the door of his trailer, interlacing their fingers and pressing their hands into the unforgiving wood above Chris’s head, burying his face in Chris’s neck and kissing and sucking and _biting_ – the thrill Chris feels at giving up control is something only Darren could give him.

Now it’s something he has to learn to live without.

***

It’s Friday and Darren’s invited himself over for a movie night. It’s the first time they’ve really hung out since before Darren went on tour so they go all out: pizza, beer, and the director’s cut of all three Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit. They spend most of Fellowship playing catch up and it’s just like old times. Sort of.

They’ve gotten better at this whole ‘being friends’ thing. It was rough at first, what with Darren being all pissed and heartbroken and Chris throwing himself into his writing and jumping into a new relationship way too soon. After a few weeks, though, they made a mutual decision to suck it up and try to be friends. From there they settled into a new rhythm, somewhat reminiscent of back when Darren first joined the show. Certain conversation topics were avoided, of course. Chris never talked about his relationship and Darren had to do his best to not make inappropriate jokes or innuendos. They had to work at not flirting with each other because it’s always come so naturally to Darren. Chris often had to be the one to bite back a grin and remind Darren with a pointed look to cool it. He hated doing that because it was always followed by the saddest look of resignation flashing across Darren’s face.

It all got easier with time, but there are still instances of that awkward elephant-in-the-room feeling: Chris’s phone will buzz when they’re hanging out and he’ll see Darren’s mouth tighten infinitesimally when he glances over and sees the name, or Chris’s cheeks will heat up when he sees Darren applying lip chap. They both pretend not to notice.

They’ve just started Two Towers when Darren snags the last piece of pizza. Chris rolls his eyes and Darren catches him. “What?” he mumbles around a mouthful of meat lover’s. “Did you wan’ it?”

“No, by all means,” Chris says snippily, waving at him to continue. “I’m sure your legions of fans will still adore you when you have a great big gut from eating seven slices of pizza in one sitting.”

Darren swallows and immediately lets his mouth fall open in indignant shock. “I will not have a great big gut!”

“You might,” Chris replies, sipping his beer. “You do have that little belly already.”

Darren wraps an arm around his own waist self-consciously. “You said you liked it,” he says, pouting a little.

“I do,” Chris says quickly, and then blushes. “I mean, _I_ do. That doesn’t mean everyone else will.” He realizes he’s being kind of an asshole, that he’s pushing the limits of just teasing. So when Darren’s pout becomes more pronounced, Chris laughs. “I’m only kidding, honey. You know you’re perfect.” Darren seems appeased and they go back to watching the movie. Chris resolves to reign in the bitchiness.

Twenty minutes later, though, he does it again. He’s in the kitchen disposing of the pizza boxes when Darren calls over, “Hey, while you’re up, can you grab me another beer?”

Chris closes the under-the-sink cupboard where he keeps the recycling bins with more force than strictly necessary. “I’m not your slave, Darren,” he snaps. “Get off your ass and get it yourself.”

When he rounds the corner into the living room, Darren is staring at him with raised eyebrows. “Uh, okay,” he says. “The beer can wait. Wanna tell me what’s up with you tonight?”

Chris sits back down on the couch and crosses his arms. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“I mean you’ve been acting like something crawled up your ass and made a nest of porcupine needles,” he says, turning his whole body to face Chris. “What gives?”

Chris shakes his head. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Except he does, of course he does.

Darren sighs and shifts closer, reaching out to grab Chris’s hand. He holds it in both of his. “Chris, please. Talk to me. Something’s bugging you, I know it. Is it me? Is it something I did?”

Chris wants to yell _yes, yes it’s you and yes it’s something you did but you don’t do it anymore because that’s not how we are anymore and I miss it I miss it so bad and I miss you doing it and I miss you_. “No, no, it’s not you. I just-” He tries to pull his hand back but Darren’s hand follows his, goes to grab it and catches his wrist instead. Chris gasps and Darren’s hold tightens. When he meets his gaze, Chris sees understanding flicker in Darren’s eyes. He swallows thickly. “Darren…”

“Chris,” he whispers. “Are you-?”

“Don’t. Just leave it, Dare.”

Darren leans forward, staring intently down at their hands before looking back up at Chris, his eyes shining. His breathing is laboured. “Please,” he says. “Please let me help, Chris. Let me-”

“You can’t, _we_ can’t-”

Darren’s other hand reaches around to the back of Chris’s neck, pressing forward lightly until their foreheads meet. He leaves his hand there. “We can. You just gotta let me.”

Chris almost whimpers at the feeling of being so close to him. The grip on the back of his neck is perfect, the one encircling his wrist even better. But it’s like a sip of water when he needs a gallon. It’s not enough. His resolve falters.

“Please,” Darren says again. “I know you need it, baby, it’s okay-”

Chris surges forward and captures Darren’s mouth in a kiss. Darren groans, part victory and part relief. He runs the tip of his tongue along the seam of Chris’s lips, and doesn’t hesitate for a second when Chris’s lips part in invitation. His tongue moves tentatively, as if he’s relearning the feel of Chris’s mouth. He still tastes like how Chris remembers, under the overtones of pizza and beer.

When he pulls back, Darren’s lips look slick and red and Chris just wants to dive back in. Darren smiles, soft and sweet, but his eyes are sparkling mischievously. He leans in so his mouth is right at Chris’s ear and breathes, “Let me take you to bed.”

And Chris, helpless with need, shaking with want, nods.

***

Chris flexes his fingers as Darren finishes tying his wrists to the wrought iron bed posts, giving the silk a light tug to check the knot. He lets out a shuddery breath.

“Okay?” Darren asks, leaning down to mouth gently over Chris’s jaw.

Chris makes a pleased humming noise. “Perfect.”

“They’re not too tight? You’re comfortable, you’re sure you-?”

“Darren.” Chris smiles, raises his foot and nudges his heel against Darren’s ass. “Come on, pants off.”

“Bossy,” he teases before lifting himself up off of the bed. Their trip upstairs had succeeded in ridding both of them of their shirts and Chris had just undone the button of Darren’s jeans when he’d stumbled back and onto the mattress, so all Darren has to do is pull down his jeans and boxers in one graceless motion before he’s climbing back on top of Chris, straddling his thighs. He kisses his way up Chris’s chest. “Happy now?”

“Mm, almost.” He tilts his pelvis forward, lifting his ass off the bed. Darren chuckles lowly but takes the hint and tugs his pants and briefs down to his ankles, letting Chris kick them the rest of the way off because he’s a little fucker.

“Good? Or,” he trails a fingertip down the muscle of Chris’s calf, “do I need to tie your feet, too?”

Darren’s thumb strokes against his anklebone and it makes him shiver. “No, not this time. Just get on top of me.” He needs to feel skin-on-skin, needs to recommit to memory how Darren’s chest feels pressed to his, hairy and hot and starting to sweat already even though they’ve barely started.

Darren lowers himself down slowly until his full weight is resting on Chris, pressing him into the mattress. He tucks his face into the crook of Chris’s neck and his hand reaches up to cradle the side of Chris’s face, thumb sweeping across his cheekbone. They just lay there for a minute as Chris takes deep, even breaths, his chest rising and falling in time with Darren’s. “You’re doing so good, baby,” Darren murmurs into the skin of his neck.

With every exhale Chris feels all the tension that’s been building dissipating, and with every inhale he becomes more aware of every place that he and Darren are touching– the way Darren’s thighs are bracketing his own, their feet brushing together, Darren’s half-hard cock pressing into his lower stomach. Warm breath against his neck makes Chris bite his lip as he feels his own arousal spreading through his body, heat pooling in his groin.

Darren seems to recognize the exact moment when the arousal overtakes the relaxation because he lifts his head up and angles for a kiss. Chris moans gratefully, feels hot desire spark through him when he has the urge to wrap his arms around Darren’s shoulders but remembers that he _can’t_. And Darren’s thighs are clamped tightly around his, so he can’t even wrap his legs around Darren’s hips. He has no control whatsoever and it’s thrilling.

Their kissing is getting wetter, sloppier, and Chris starts thrusting his hips forward in little jerky motions, looking for friction. Darren pulls away, ignoring Chris’s whine of protest. “Ah ah,” he admonishes, sounding out of breath already. “Not yet.”

“Darren-”

“Shh. Patience, sweetheart.” He scoots back, lifting some of his weight off of Chris and sliding his hand from Chris’s cheek to his neck. He thumbs at Chris’s Adam’s apple once before ducking down and biting at it instead. It’s light, playful almost, his teeth barely scraping the skin, but it still causes Chris’s breath to stutter out. His hands clench into fists against the bed posts. Darren soothes the bite with a lick and a sweet kiss. “I love the way your skin tastes,” he says, nuzzling into his neck for a moment.

“You’re so weird,” Chris tries to joke, but his voice comes out so breathy that it ruins the effect. Then Darren’s kissing down his throat to his chest, tongue laving over his collarbones before licking teasingly over a nipple. He pulls back to blow cool air over the trail of saliva he’s left and Chris’s spine goes rigid. “Oh-”

Darren ignores him, turning to suck the other nipple into his mouth. He sucks harder when Chris moans, and when he moves down to press kisses around Chris’s bellybutton, the skin around the nipple is flushed dark pink.

Chris almost sobs with relief when Darren finally takes the head of his cock into his mouth. He moans at the visual of Darren’s perfect, spit-slick lips wrapped around his cock, long eyelashes fluttering with pleasure as he begins to suck, and lets his head fall back. Chris feels Darren swallow around him, and then he’s sinking down, down, his throat opening up and taking Chris’s entire length. It’s everything he has to keep from screaming. “Oh my God, Darren…” Darren swallows again and Chris digs his fingernails into his palms. He’s so close to coming and it’s barely been five minutes. “Baby, your _mouth_ , I can’t-”

Darren pulls off, wrapping his hand around Chris’s cock and pumping up and down just twice before letting go. Chris figures he’s just taking a breather, but then Darren’s hopping off the bed and going to Chris’s bedside table, rooting around for a moment before pulling out a condom and a bottle of lube. He throws both on the bed beside Chris before climbing back over him, spreading his legs apart. He grabs a stray pillow and shoves it under Chris’s hips. Then, without warning, he’s launching forward and licking a broad stripe right over Chris’s hole. Chris lets out a strangled cry and Darren moans in response, licking harder, reaching up to rub tiny circles into the sensitive skin of his perineum.

Chris wishes he had the use of his hands only so he could bury them in Darren’s curls, or maybe in his own hair, tugging so the tiny pinpricks of pain would distract from this overwhelming pleasure. As it is, he can only try to breathe and watch stars flicker behind his eyelids as Darren’s tongue breaches him, as he licks and sucks and peppers tiny kisses around the sensitive skin. He can’t come like this, not without fingers inside him or friction for his cock, so he just moans and writhes and lets Darren turn him into a trembling mess.

When he opens his eyes and sees that the lube bottle has moved and Darren’s unoccupied hand has disappeared behind him, Chris can’t even breathe for how turned on he is. “Fuck, oh my fucking God, are you fingering yourself?” When Darren just moans in response, Chris goes on. “You are, aren’t you baby? Getting yourself all slick and ready, opening yourself up for my cock. I bet you wish it was me doing it for you. My fingers inside you, spreading you open. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Darren moans again, louder this time, and sits back on his heels, fucking back onto his fingers. He’s panting, staring at Chris with dark eyes. His mouth and chin are covered in saliva, his hair is a mess, and his cheeks are flushed. He looks absolutely debauched.

Darren removes his fingers with an audible squelching noise that makes Chris blush, and then he’s grabbing the condom, tearing off the foil packaging and throwing it to the floor. He rolls the condom over Chris’s cock with practiced ease, grabs the lube bottle and squeezes a generous dollop into his palm before spreading it down Chris’s length. Chris is so on edge that he moans and jerks up at the brief contact. Then Darren’s pulling the pillow out from under Chris’s hips, discarding it, and surging up for a brief, desperate kiss. “I’m going to ride you now, okay?” Darren whispers against his lips.

Chris tugs at Darren’s bottom lip with his teeth and kisses him again. He nods. “Please.”

Darren positions himself over Chris’s cock, one hand on Chris’s chest to steady himself. The other hand reaches down to guide Chris’s cock to his entrance. He sinks down in one slow, steady motion. They both groan, and Darren’s hand comes up to tug at his own hair. “Fuck, _yes_.”

Darren starts to lift himself up and press back down, slowly at first, but soon enough his rhythm is increasing. He fucks himself on Chris’s cock faster and harder until he’s almost bouncing up and down, Chris thrusting his hips up to meet him. He’s mesmerized by how beautiful Darren looks like this– a flush spreading down his neck and across the top of his chest, his body undulating as wave after wave of pleasure roll through him, his cock hard and heavy and glistening with precum at the tip.

“Fuck I missed this,” Darren gasps. “Missed you, missed your cock inside me, filling me up. You feel so good, Chris, so fucking good.”

Chris’s breathing has gone shallow and he can feel the tell-tale pressure building. “I’m close,” he rasps out. “Darren, I need- I need-”

And because Darren knows, he always fucking knows, he slides his hand from Chris’s chest up to his neck, applying only the slightest pressure. His other hand wraps around his own cock and he moans. “Gonna come,” he says breathily. “Fuck, gonna come so hard, baby, all over your pretty pale skin. Gonna mark you up.”

It only takes a couple more strokes before he’s coming, some of it dribbling over his own hand but most of it landing on Chris’s chest. Darren swivels his hips, riding out his orgasm. His hand on Chris’s throat presses down a little harder, fingers curling around and just barely squeezing, and then Chris is coming, too. Darren lets go of his neck and Chris sucks in a deep breath, feeling his climax sweep through his entire body, from the tingling of his fingertips to the pulsing of his cock to the curling of his toes.

He pants harshly as he comes down, barely registering Darren pulling off his softening cock, removing the condom, and climbing off the bed. He disappears into the bathroom for about ten seconds before returning with a damp washcloth. Darren cleans them up, sets the cloth on the bedside table, and goes about untying the scarves binding Chris’s hands. He’s focused, gentle, and Chris watches him with glazed eyes.

Darren spends a couple minutes massaging Chris’s wrists. They don’t speak; Darren is staring intently at Chris’s hands and Chris feels almost boneless he’s so relaxed. He can’t remember the last time he felt this sated, this taken care of. He’s fine with basking in it.

“Is this going to happen again?” Darren asks eventually, his voice quiet.

Chris gnaws at the inside of his cheek, not meeting Darren’s gaze. “It probably shouldn’t.”

“You need it, baby. If he’s not giving you what you need-”

“I haven’t asked,” Chris says, only a touch defensive.

Darren just stares at him for a moment, biting his lips together. “Why not?”

Chris doesn’t answer, but the way Darren’s looking at him tells him he already knows.

They don’t talk anymore after that, and when Darren tugs the covers down, Chris goes willingly enough. He’s sleepy and Darren is warm and comfortable. A little sweat-sticky, but that’s fine. They curl around each other, Chris tucking his head under Darren’s chin, and their breathing syncs up again. They don’t need words, but Darren whispers _I love you_ into Chris’s hair anyway. Chris doesn’t reply, but he presses a soft kiss to Darren’s chest and sighs contentedly.

He falls asleep in Darren’s arms, and for the first time in what feels like forever, sleeps peacefully.


End file.
